


Trigger Finger

by sealdog



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Gun Kink, Gunplay, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sealdog/pseuds/sealdog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Jack’s holding the gun, casual and focused and <i>in control</i> makes Rhys breathless, turned on in the way only Jack makes him. He barely waits long enough for Jack to put the gun down on the table before lunging forwards and pulling Jack into a kiss, pressing his mouth against Jack’s hungrily.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Jack tries to teach Rhys how to shoot. They get distracted.</p>
<p>Unrepentant PWP, forgive me Father for I have sinned |:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trigger Finger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oldmanrenkas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmanrenkas/gifts).



> Christmas present for renqa, who drags me down to a new level of hell and sin every day :~)
> 
> sorta set in Quid Pro Quo verse, or alternatively, AU where Jack and Rhys have been dating for a while and are a gross couple.

The empty gun range is cold, a lot colder than Rhys had expected it to be, and he shivers in his shirt and vest, holding his arms around himself and wishing he’d brought a jacket or something.

“Cold, kitten?”

Rhys jumps at the sound of Jack’s voice, and turns to see the man himself, arms crossed and leaning against a partition, watching Rhys with an impassive face.

“Kinda, I didn’t think it’d be this cold, or I would’ve brought a jacket.” Rhys admits, moving closer to Jack. When he gets close enough, he reaches out and slips his hands into Jack’s jacket, taking advantage of Jack’s ridiculous body heat.

“Okay, that’s cute, Rhysie, real cute.” Jack snorts, and reaches down to pick up Rhys’ hands, folding them within his larger ones and rubbing them.

“What? My boyfriend is hot, in multiple senses. Of course I’m gonna take advantage of that.” Rhys grins, feeling something clench in his chest at the feeling of Jack’s hands around his own.

“Hah, flattery will get you everywhere.” Jack starts walking backwards, using his grip on Rhys’ hands to pull him towards the long low table that spans the room. As they get closer, Rhys sees guns laid out on it, all Hyperion, and all very, _very_ , shiny.

“Wait, is this what you meant by Christmas present?” Rhys pulls his newly warm hands back, and goes forwards of his own accord to look at the guns, hovering but not touching any. They all look dangerous, and he glances over them nervously.

Jack comes up beside him to lean his hips against the table, facing Rhys. “Yep. Figured it’s high time I taught you how to use a gun. Your little stun baton is cute, but we’re talking life skills here, alright? Also, you’re dating the leader of one of the biggest gun manufacturing companies in the galaxies. You not knowing how to use a gun…it’s just embarrassing, at this point.” He snorts, and dodges Rhys’ half-hearted punch.

Jack picks up a pistol, golden and sleek, and holds it up so Rhys can see. “This one’s a pretty good one for beginners. The Leverage, high accuracy, high damage, and only moderately high recoil. Here, give it a shot.” He holds it out to Rhys, carefully pointing it away from them both.

“I, uh…” Rhys gingerly picks it up, and frowns at Jack. “Really? You couldn’t have gotten me like, a mug or something for Christmas?”

“Nope.” Jack pops the p, grinning at Rhys before reaching forwards to adjust his grip on the pistol. “Okay, keep your finger off the trigger, unless you mean to shoot. Hold it so it’s comfortable, here, move your—okay, that should be good.”

Rhys squints down at the pistol in his hand. It’s heavy, heavier than he expected, and the metal grip is cold against his flesh hand.

Jack nudges Rhys over to face the targets on the far wall. “Come on, lemme see your stance.”

Raising an eyebrow at Jack, Rhys makes the most exaggerated cowboy gunslinging stance he can think of, thrusting his hips forwards and holding the gun sideways in front of him with one hand.

“Hah, funny.” Jack scowls, and Rhys can’t help but grin, straightening up from his ridiculous position. “Seriously, come on now.”

Rhys obliges, pulling the gun in his hand up to point at the target, bracing his left arm with his right.

“Okay, kinda weird, but not a bad start. We can work with that.” Jack comes up behind Rhys, and cages him in with his body, chest pressed against Rhys’ back and arms going up to adjust Rhys’. The position is not unfamiliar, and Rhys huffs in amusement, nudging his hips back so that his ass is pressed flush to Jack’s crotch.

One of Jack’s hands comes down to swat at the side of his butt, and Rhys jumps.

“Very funny, Rhys.” Jack digs his chin into Rhys’ shoulder, making him yelp. “Just get the basics right first, and we can get down to the hanky panky later.”

“Fine, fine.” Rhys rolls his eyes, and lets Jack move him into position.

“Okay, I’ve seen you play video games with that buff nerd friend of yours, you should know how to aim and shoot. Just don’t stiffen up your arms, but don’t keep them too relaxed either.” Jack lets go of Rhys’ elbows, hands hovering close by. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

Rhys squints down the sight. It’s a lot different from video games, and he makes a mental note to get Jack to actually play one someday, to prove the difference to him, but the mechanics of aiming are pretty straightforward, and he tries to keep his arms as steady as possible before taking a deep breath, curling his finger around the trigger, and pulling.

The gun jerks back in his hand, recoil unexpectedly hard despite Jack's warning earlier, but there’s a hole with burning edges in the target, not exactly on the human figure drawn there, but close enough.

“Not bad, not bad.” Jack places his hands on Rhys’ hips, nuzzling at Rhys’ jaw. “Next time try breathing out before shooting, but not bad at all, cupcake.”

“I hit it though, that’s way better than I thought I’d do,” Rhys admits, putting the gun down with a shaky laugh.

“Yeah? You underestimate yourself, kiddo.” Jack bites down, none too gently, on a still healing hickey on Rhys’ neck, and Rhys is hard pressed to hold in a whimper.

“What happened to keeping the hanky panky for later?” Rhys says, laughing even as he’s already hardening in his pants.

“Mm, hit the target first, and we’ll see about hanky panky.” Jack licks over the new bitemark, and pulls back. “Again.”

The promise of sex is enough to keep Rhys focused, and he picks up the gun, aims, takes a deep breath and releases it before pulling the trigger again. This time, it’s closer, on the line of the figure, but the third shot hits, slightly off center, but very definitely in the figure.

Putting the gun down, Rhys turns to face Jack, grinning in triumph.

“Heh, you’ll do, kitten.” Jack grins.

“Come on, hanky panky time.” Rhys waggles his eyebrows at Jack. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to do it in a shooting range before.”

“Who says I haven’t?” Jack replies, smirking, before picking up the gun Rhys just put down and emptying the clip into the figure, headshot after headshot.

The way Jack’s standing, casual and focused and _in control_ makes Rhys breathless, turned on in the way only Jack makes him. He barely waits long enough for Jack to put the emptied gun down on the table before lunging forwards and pulling Jack into a kiss, pressing his mouth against Jack’s hungrily.

To his gratification, Jack seems to be as turned on as he is, hands reaching down to pull Rhys forwards, grinding his very present erection against Rhys’. When they break apart, Jack’s face is flushed beneath the scar, and his lips are very red as he stares at Rhys’ mouth greedily. One large hand slides into Rhys’ pants, fingers squeezing his ass before sliding to press against his hole.

“Oh, oh god yes,” Rhys moans, pressing back against the fingers even as he reaches down to undo Jack’s belt. “Come on, lube’s in my pocket.”

Jack pulls back, and spins Rhys around, pushing him so that he’s lying with his chest pressed to the table, ass sticking up. The position makes Rhys think of all the times they’ve fucked on Jack’s desk in the office, and he shivers in anticipation, wriggling and undoing his pants with fumbling fingers.

Jack pulls out the lube, slapping the small tube onto the table next to Rhys’ head, and yanks Rhys’ pants down without preamble. Rhys reaches up, intending to help Jack speed things along by uncapping the tube, but warm hands pulling his cheeks apart distracts him.

Jack’s tongue flicks against the sensitive skin of Rhys’ hole, and he cries out, pushing back eagerly. The warm, wet sensations are a pleasurable contrast to the chill of the air around them, and Rhys can’t help but whimper, hands clenching down on the edges of the table in an attempt to keep focused.

“Lube, c’mon,” Jack pulls away to say, voice ragged. Rhys hurriedly pushes himself up onto one elbow so he can reach back and pass the lube to Jack.

“Thanks, babe.” Jack presses a kiss to Rhys’ left buttcheek before sliding a slick finger into Rhys’ hole, pressing in with a lot more haste than normal.

Rhys isn’t complaining though. Maybe it’s something about the almost public feel of being in the gun range, even though it’s completely empty thanks to Jack’s authority, or maybe its the way he can smell the way the target is still slowly burning from their shooting, the gunpowder faint but very present in the air. Either way, there’s an urgency to his need to have Jack in him, have Jack filling him up, that leaves him gasping and whimpering, “Please, two fingers will do, please just _fuck_ me.”

With all the self-control that Rhys doesn’t have, Jack waits until three fingers are sliding in and out of Rhys’ hole easily before pulling back, keeping one hand on the small of Rhys’ back as he says, “Hands on the table, no touching yourself. You ready?”

“Yeah! Come on, I was ready _ages_ ago—” Rhys’ voice trails off into a stuttered, relieved moan as something hard and cold presses into him.

Wait.

The hard pressure in his ass is nothing like Jack’s dick, from the shape, to the way it’s completely unyielding, and then it hits. When he realizes what Jack’s pressing into him, Rhys nearly comes, shocked and impossibly turned on at the same time.

“Ah! Jack, did you seriously— _oh_!”

Jack’s laughter is familiar, warm and with an edge to it that Rhys recognizes means Jack wants to play with him a little. Or a lot.

“Thought you’d like that, and—” Jack reaches down to grab at Rhys’ cock, bobbing in the air, as hard as ever. “Looks like I’m right, eh?”

“F-fuck!” Rhys stutters, unable to help the way his body thrusts back against the—oh _god_ , against the gun in his ass.

The barrel isn’t cold, and the rational part of Rhys’ mind points out that they had just been shooting with it, but mostly all Rhys can think about is the way it’s heavy, solid, unyielding and so fucking _dangerous_ , as attested to by the still sizzling holes in the target hanging not fifty meters away.

“Think you can come from just this, Rhysie?” Jack bends down, hand on Rhys’ back lifting up so he can pull Rhys’ collar aside to bite down on the back of his neck. “Come just from having a gun in your ass?”

“Please!” Rhys cries out, not even sure what he’s asking for. “Please, Jack!”

“God, yeah, you should see yourself right now,” Jack breathes out. “Bending over with your ass hanging out, your hole all slutty for the gun in it, ohhh kitten, you’re beautiful like this.”

He thrusts the gun in, slowly, and Rhys moans, too focused on the way the barrel presses, hard and _not enough_ , to even respond to Jack’s words. “Jack, _harder_.”

“Yeah?” Jack laughs, and pulls the gun out, even more slowly, despite Rhys’ whimpered pleas not to. “Say the magic word, princess.”

Magic word, what—Rhys pushes himself up, and tries to thrust back, but Jack’s hand on his back presses him back down.

“Nuh-uh, magic word, kitten, don’t make me ask again.”

“I—please? Oh god, Jack _please_ , harder, please fuck me harder.”

“Fuck you harder with…?” Jack’s voice is amused, and Rhys is so, so tempted to just take his hands off the table and bring himself off, but he knows better than to do so, not when Jack has explicitly given him instructions.

“Fuck me harder with…with the gun, oh _god_.” Rhys breaks off with a strangled moan as Jack obliges, and the gun’s thrusting back in, pulling against the rim of his hole with delicious friction.

Then Jack’s shifting position, pushing himself further up, and the angle of his hand changes, and the next thrust of the gun is right against Rhys’ prostate.

Rhys screams as he comes, untouched, hands clutching so desperately at the table he thinks his metal hand might have dented it. Jack keeps fucking him through his orgasm, the gun sliding in and out and pressing against Rhys’ prostate until Rhys is shaking and collapsed on the table, unable to do anything but twitch and moan at the sensations.

“Was it good?” Jack slides his free hand into Rhys’ hair, tugging his head back.

“Yeah, Jack, you’re…” Rhys trails off, grinning dopily at Jack. “Hanky panky, huh?”

Snorting, Jack lets go, and Rhys’ head drops back down.

“Oof! Rude, come on, Jack.” Rhys whines.

“You know what’s rude? Not everybody in this room has come yet, pumpkin.” Jack pulls the gun out, and tosses it onto the table next to Rhys’ head with a clatter.

“Well, come on then, fuck me already.” Rhys summons all his willpower and ignores the whining of his exhausted body to push himself back up into a standing position, hands on the table and back arched, ass tilted so that Jack gets a nice view of his hole, turning so he can look at Jack through lidded eyes. Jack’s always weak for when Rhys presents himself like that, and now is no exception. Rhys grins when Jack’s eyes go down almost helplessly to Rhys’ hole.

“Damnit, you know how much I like that.” Jack grumbles, but he’s pulling his dick out and pressing the head against Rhys’ hole anyway.

After the gun, Jack’s dick is…both familiar and strange. Then Jack starts to thrust, and Rhys focuses on clenching down, making it good for Jack.

“Yeah, the gun was good, but your cock is better, so perfect.” Rhys hums, closing his eyes to enjoy the familiar slide of Jack’s cock in him.

“Flatterer.” Jack snorts, but his hands tighten on Rhys’ hips, and his thrusts pick up.

“You like it,” Rhys retorts.

“True. Keep talking.”

“You just want to hear me praise your dick, don’t you?” Rhys laughs. He shifts his weight, folds his arms so that he’s leaning on his elbows, and adjusts himself until Jack’s brushing by his prostate with every thrust. Moaning, Rhys continues, “The way you fill me up…ah! That’s it, fuck me, fuck me harder, god you feel so good.”

Jack’s hand goes down to tug at Rhys’ dick, and Rhys lets the sensations wash over him, the tingling, oversensitive feeling of having come not long ago melting with every brush by his prostate into a hot liquid feeling, pooling in his groin.

“Yeah, that’s it, don’t stop, ah, Jack!” Rhys lets the words spill out of him with the moans, and he’s so focused on clenching down and dirty talking that his second orgasm comes as a surprise, and he’s coming in Jack’s hand with a gasp.

To his consolation, Jack comes not long after, pushing in and coming with a muffled curse before slumping down onto Rhys.

They lie like that for a while, until the chill of the shooting range gets to Rhys, and he starts shivering.

“Come on, get off, we should clean up.” Rhys rolls Jack off to the side before standing up, a bit shaky, but on his own two feet. Jack groans, but stands up too, tucking himself back in.

“Yeah, I should _definitely_ clean that gun before putting it back.” Jack picks up the gun with two fingers and makes a face.

“God, yes, please do.” Rhys flushes, too embarrassed to even look at the gun again. “I can’t believe I came while getting fucked by a gun, thanks, Jack.”

“You’re welcome.” Jack grins, and reaches forwards with his free hand to pull Rhys forwards so he can plant a smacking kiss onto his forehead. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

**Author's Note:**

> ps: i know nothing about guns, but i'mmmm 80% sure you're not supposed to stick a just-fired gun up somebody's ass so uh, don't...do that, maybe. or do, whatever, i'm not your dad lol.
> 
> pps: i'm ssealdog on tumblr come join the sin pit


End file.
